


A Change of Pace Never Killed Anybody

by katyb64



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Sherlock, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Top John, that's right I wrote a fluffy dom/sub scene AND I'M PROUD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 17:16:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2278080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katyb64/pseuds/katyb64
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a fairly new game, they haven't gone too far with it, but John needed it sometimes, and he knew Sherlock did too. The man got caught up in his own drama and drove John up the wall, sometimes John had to be the one that's listened to, wanted to have Sherlock follow him instead of the other way around. It's not that he doesn't love the way they work, because he really does, but a change of pace once in a while never killed anyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Change of Pace Never Killed Anybody

**Author's Note:**

> No /you/ should be doing your homework instead of writing smut 
> 
> Shut up
> 
> PS if you point out mistakes you win twenty friendship points

"You're absolutely insufferable, you know that?" John grumbled, pushing past Sherlock to get into their flat. Both men were tired and dripping with dirty river water from the Thames after Sherlock had jumped in chasing a murderer, somehow forgetting that he also had a sprained shoulder and minor concussion from said murderer, which quickly lead to him being quite unable to swim. John had had to jump in and rescue him, the murderer nearly getting away in the process. Luckily, John had insisted on calling the police, so the deranged woman was put behind bars. Still, John was absolutely seething at Sherlock almost getting himself killed and being a compete dick in the cab ride home.

"Oh please, as if even _you_ couldn't tell that that cabby was dating an underage girl, he was practically announcing it." Sherlock hung up his coat and scarf before sprawling out on the sofa, making John pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Alright, first of all, you don't accuse a driver of breaking the law while the car is going; we're lucky he didn't drive us into an abandoned alley and kill us. Secondly-"

"Come on, just because he has poor morals doesn't mean he's a killer."

"Secondly," John continued as though Sherlock hadn't spoken. "You're going to soak the couch through, we both need to go change. Not to mention shower."

Sherlock seemed to perk up at that, peering up at John from under his lashes. "Care to get clean together?" He asked, lowering his voice in a way he knew John had trouble resisting. That afternoon, though, John found it easy to say no.

"You can wash yourself, you've been doing it for years."

Sherlock pouted. "Oh come on, you're really so mad? I bet if you give me a few minutes in the shower I'll change your mind."

"I'm showering upstairs, putting on warm clothes and making myself a hot cuppa. Then we'll talk about what exactly is going to change my mind." He looked pointedly at Sherlock, the detective's eyes widening.

Sherlock didn't say anything more on the subject, simply got up to head to the bathroom, already slipping into the role John adored so much when his lover has been just a bit too overbearing. It's a fairly new game, they haven't gone too far with it, but John needed it sometimes, and he knew Sherlock did too. The man got caught up in his own drama and drove John up the wall, sometimes John had to be the one that's listened to, wanted to have Sherlock follow him instead of the other way around. It's not that he doesn't love the way they work, because he really does, but a change of pace once in a while never killed anyone.

John went upstairs and had a nice, long, hot shower, letting the tension ease from his muscles. He changed into a soft t-shirt and pajama bottoms, not bothering with pants. They'd get taken off soon enough anyway. He returned downstairs, not looking at Sherlock on the couch when he headed to the kitchen to start the kettle, filling two mugs and carrying both to the living room, setting Sherlock's on the coffee table before relaxing into his chair. He could practically feel the anticipation coming off of Sherlock in waves, the eagerness and curiosity about what John would do. It was another reason John loved this, it's one of the few times he's able to surprise the genius. He sipped his tea slowly, the waiting just as much a part of the game. He liked looking in control, like he couldn't care less while Sherlock looked like he was about to implode if he didn't get John right that second. He ignored how Sherlock didn't touch his tea, taking slow, careful sips until the tea was able to get cooler, and only then did he take larger mouthfuls, finally finishing the drink. Eventually, he looked over at Sherlock, not surprised to find the man's eyes locked on him as he set down his mug. He'd changed too, now wearing his robe, a t-shirt, and boxers. "Come here." He said softly, crooking a finger at his impatient lover.

Sherlock did as he was asked, standing and walking to John's chair, straddling his hips when John patted his lap. John kissed him, slowly and firmly, hands squeezing Sherlock's thighs. "You were reckless today." He told him when he finally pulled away, leaving Sherlock's lips dark and wet and wanting more. "You could have died."

"I'm sorry." Sherlock mumbled, eyes downcast. His tone wasn't terribly convincing.

"Not yet." John murmured, reaching up to cup Sherlock's cheek. "You will be soon. You deserve to be punished, y'know. You were rude in the cab and to Lestrade when he asked for our statements." He ran his hands over Sherlock's thighs and hips, holding him firmly. "What if you had drowned, huh? Where would that leave me?"

Sherlock met his gaze. "I'm sorry." He said again, sounding much more sincere. John kissed him again, a bit less gently.

"That's better. Will you be good for me tonight? You know you only get rewarded if you're good."

Sherlock nodded. "I'll be good. I promise."

"If you're not you know what happens. I leave, we're done for the night and you get nothing. Clear?" John started pressing kisses over Sherlock's jaw, liking the feeling of Sherlock's skin under his lips.

"Yes, John. I'll be good." Sherlock sighed, closing his eyes at the soft kisses being mouthed onto his skin, gasping at a sudden sharp little nip.

John hummed in approval, threading his fingers in Sherlock's hair and tugging him close to kiss him again, parting his lips forcefully and using his tongue to stake out a claim. When they were like this John kissed as though he owned Sherlock, as though his mouth was for him to take. He did take, harshly and deeply until Sherlock was moaning and his jaw was sore from keeping his mouth open for the doctor. He pulled back, letting Sherlock catch his breath for a moment before patting his hip. “Up. Shirt and robe off.” He pushed him off, watching Sherlock closely as he stripped, quickly and efficiently the way John liked. It was a bit like playing soldier, Sherlock the dutiful officer and John his demanding superior, only it wasn't quite so impersonal. They didn't have roles so much as rules, and the rules were 'you listen to John, you get to come' and 'if you say stop, we stop'. John never let the authority get to his head. He wouldn't want to hurt Sherlock or make him uncomfortable, just the idea made his gut twist. It wasn't about pain, it was about control.

Though, Sherlock had never minded a few swift slaps to his behind, but that wasn't exactly pain if he enjoyed it, was it?

“Good.” John said once Sherlock was standing in just his pants, waiting for his next command. “Look at you, all bruised up, and they're not from me. That's not right, is it?”

“It's not.” Sherlock agreed, knowing he was meant to regardless.

John stood, smoothing a hand down Sherlock's pale torso, marked with bruises and scrapes from their latest adventure. “No, no it's not. The only marks you should have should be from me. Go stand against the wall there, back to me.” He gestured to the wall beside the window, waiting until Sherlock did as he was told before joining him. “Very good, baby.” He murmured, sucking a wet kiss onto his shoulder. “Tell me, who should mark you?”

“You.” Sherlock said, trying not to squirm. This game made him hard, just listening to John's voice go low and authoritative made him hard, but it wouldn't do to plead unless John asked him to.

“And why do you think that is?” John asked, pressing up against Sherlock and grabbing his hip, fingers digging into his skin slightly.

Sherlock hadn't been provided an answer, but of course he could guess. “Because I'm yours.”

John sighed, wrapping his free arm around Sherlock's middle. “That's right, beautiful. All mine.” He trailed kisses over Sherlock's back, licking up his spine to make him shiver before finding a nice patch of skin, just below his shoulder blade. Creamy white and unblemished. “Why are you being punished?” He asked before he started sucking a bruise onto that clear bit of skin, wanting evidence all over that Sherlock was his. He bit down hard enough to make Sherlock gasp, sucking for a long while.

“B- because I was rude.” Sherlock said, closing his eyes and focusing on the feeling of being marked. “And I almost got us both killed, and I was reckless.”

John pulled off of Sherlock's skin with a 'pop', laving over the wine-red mark with his tongue. “Mhmm... is that it?”

“I... Yes. Isn't it?”

John swatted his side, nuzzling into his neck for a moment. “You got hurt. You know I hate it when you get hurt.” He mouthed gentle kisses over his sprained shoulder, knowing he'd have to take it a bit easy tonight. That was okay, it was more about the verbal stuff most of the time.

Sherlock nodded. “I know. I'm sorry.”

John slid his hand down Sherlock's stomach until he was palming the bulge in his pants, making Sherlock whine softly. “You don't feel so sorry to me.” He said teasingly, squeezing softly before kneading with the tips of his fingers, finding the head of his cock through the fabric and circling it with the tip of his pointer finger until there was a wet spot in his pants.

“I- I am, I'm sorry, I-”

“Shh...” John hushed him, nibbling at his jaw. “I know, relax. You're tense, I can't fuck you if you're this tense. You want me to fuck you, right?”

Sherlock nodded his head sharply, canting his hips forward against John's teasing fingers.

“Pardon?” John pulled his hand away.

“Yes!” Sherlock exclaimed, continuing to press forward until he was rubbing against the wall, utterly shameless.

John chuckled, letting Sherlock continue to rock against the wall for a moment since it was doing lovely things for where John was pressed against his bum. He put a hand on his hip to still him after a moment, though. He was still in charge. “I believe we said this is mine.” He said, grabbing Sherlock's cock a bit more forcefully, prompting a whimper. “I don't think the wall should have a claim on it. Only I do. Yes?”

“'M sorry.” Sherlock mumbled, starting to sweat. He always had a low threshold for teasing and John loved pushing his buttons.

“Answer me.”

“Yeah, yes.” He nodded again.

John started to slowly rock his hips against Sherlock, moaning quietly. “All mine, just for me. It's lucky I know how to take care of you... Somebody else, they wouldn't know how to claim you, they'd let you run wild and they'd lose you. Not me, I know what you need. You need to be held down sometimes, you need somebody to shut you up and make you beg. Only I could do that for you.” He started rubbing the heel of his palm up and down Sherlock's length, using a bit too much pressure for it to be entirely pleasurable. John wished he could record the sounds Sherlock made when he had him like this, whimpers and whines and moans, high, needy pleading noises that he couldn't contain. He mewled sometimes too, John adored it.

“Please...” Sherlock said quietly, probably not entirely sure he'd said it.

“What do you want, Sherlock?” John asked, voice low and rough. The man was rock hard under his hand, probably close to aching but John wasn't ready to give him any sort of relief.

Sherlock whimpered, bracing himself against the wall with his good arm.

"You want my cock, don't you?" John murmured, gently rocking against the curve of his arse. "You want it. You want to gag on it."

Sherlock pressed his sweat-slick head against the wall, pushing back against John's hips and whining. "Yes, yes, I- I do, I-"

"You _what_?" John demanded, breathing hot into his ear. "What do you want?"

Sherlock blushed at having to say it. "Y-your cock. I want your cock." He felt the shift in John's expression as the man smirked.

"That's it. Good boy." John kissed his jaw before licking over the edge of his ear, loving the way it made Sherlock shiver. "Now ask for it."

"J-John-"

The blond wasn't in the mood to listen to protests, thrusting his hips sharply against Sherlock's before pulling away his hand again. "You either ask me nicely or you don't get it. I thought you were going to be a good boy for me, Sherlock. If you're not, I can always leave."

"No!" Sherlock whined desperately, not wanting John anywhere but where he was, pressed up against him. "I'm sorry, please don't."

"There we are." John said sweetly, running his hand gently over Sherlock's side. "Now ask."

Sherlock closed his eyes to make saying the words easier, hips humping forward slightly against nothing. "John, I... I want your cock. Can... Can I please h-have it?"

John sighed softly, pressing a kiss to the side of Sherlock's neck before pulling back and allowing Sherlock to move away from the wall. "Of course you can, gorgeous. Get on your knees for me." He smiled as Sherlock obeyed, reaching down to gently stroke his fingers through his dark curls. "Such a good boy... Do what you want for a bit, baby. You've earned it."

Sherlock nuzzled into the bulge at the front of John's pajamas, breathing deeply and smiling softly as John stroked his hair. He loved when John rewarded him, made him feel like he did well, succeeded. He adored success, especially when the reward was something so enticing. He found he actually quite enjoyed having John in his mouth, even though the flavor wasn't the most pleasant in the world. It was just so intimate, he'd never had anybody that close and it made him feel vulnerable, but not in a scary way. In a nice way, because he knew John would keep him safe. He'd never said any of that, of course, wouldn't dare, but he assumed John knew. He pulled down John's pajamas, moaning happily when he discovered his lack of pants. He looked up at John gratefully before licking up his length, humming before taking his cock halfway into his mouth, sucking gently.

John groaned, closing his eyes for a moment before looking down at Sherlock, trying to keep himself in control. “That's it...” He said, voice low and rough. He let Sherlock do it his way for a bit, enjoying the gentle sucking and exploring before tugging his hair a little. “Stop.” Sherlock pulled off obligingly, looking up at John with reddened lips. John had to take a deep breath to not lose it and just come in his mouth, it was _so_ enticing, Sherlock was too gorgeous for his own good. He rubbed his thumb over Sherlock's wet lower lip, just admiring him for a moment until Sherlock realized what he was doing and started preening. That wouldn't do. He grabbed his chin, holding his mouth open. “Stay still, squeeze my leg if it's too much.” He put a hand on his cock to guide it back into Sherlock's mouth before putting the hand on the back of Sherlock's head and beginning to thrust, not too fast but enough that it would be hard for Sherlock not to choke a little. This was meant to be a sort of punishment after all.

Sherlock closed his eyes and kept his mouth loose and open for John to do with what he would. John rocked his hips quickly, picking up speed and strength until Sherlock was gagging and he was getting far too close to coming. He pulled back out of Sherlock's mouth and waited for Sherlock to get his breath back, stroking himself gently as he watched. Too damn gorgeous. He thought for a minute about what he wanted, then put his hand under Sherlock's good shoulder and pulled him to his feet. “Got what you wanted, eh? Filthy little thing, begging for my cock...”

The fact that John could call Sherlock 'little' while looking up at him and still make Sherlock feel it made a shiver zip up the detective's spine. “Yes.” He said softly, because despite the discomfort it really had been enjoyable. Let John take his pleasure, didn't he deserve it? He put up with Sherlock, listened to him, cared for him... Let him take whatever he wanted.

“Though, I think this was meant to be a punishment.” John said, putting his hands on his hips. “Go to your room, strip, and sit on the bed. I'll be in soon. Don't you dare touch yourself.” He kissed Sherlock tenderly before sending him on his way with a light smack to his hip, watching him as he left before pulling his bottoms back up. God he loved it, having Sherlock listen like that. To think that Sherlock, a fucking hurricane of a man, would listen, be compliant just to make him happy. He felt lucky. He'd never felt lucky until he met Sherlock. He had a gift for Sherlock in the room he used to sleep in, not used since the first time they'd kissed, and he wanted to give it to him that night. After all this, of course.

He went upstairs and grabbed the box. It didn't look much like a present, black and small enough to fit in the palm of his hand, and he hoped he'd gotten Sherlock to a state where he wouldn't deduce what it was before it was given. He stripped and went to Sherlock's room, pleased to see him in just the position he'd asked for. He saw the man's gaze slide to the box, but John set it on the bedside table and kissed him, pushing him back and straddling his hips. He licked and nipped at Sherlock's lips, insinuating himself into Sherlock's mouth and kissing him harshly until the detective was moaning, arching up into John's every touch.

“Don't think about it.” John said, tone firm as he reached between them to wrap a hand around Sherlock's prick and stroking twice, roughly. “Focus on me. You're mine.” He stroked him a bit lighter, teasing at the glans with his thumb and just enjoying the sounds he could get Sherlock to make. He sucked another dark bruise onto the side of his neck, then one above his collar bone, one over his heart, and one just under his jaw. “You said you wanted me to fuck you?” He asked, looking into Sherlock's eyes, seeing the raw want. He loved it.

Sherlock nodded his head vigorously. “Y-yeah, I- please, please, please, pl-”

“Hush.” John said, biting hard at his ear and making him whimper. “Just because it's good when you ask doesn't mean I want to hear you beg like some desperate little whore. Ask again.” He was lying, he loved to hear Sherlock plead and the detective knew it. They also both knew that John loved to challenge his lover, change things up, surprise him.

“John...” Sherlock sighed, blinking slowly at him. “I want you to fuck me. I want to feel you inside of me. Please, would you?”

John smirked, kissing Sherlock roughly again. “That's better... I have to have you be respectable, else it sucks out all the fun.” He pressed their lips together again before rolling off of Sherlock and sitting up, making the other man whine quietly at the lack of contact. “On your knees, bum in the air. I wouldn't want to tear anything, got to get you ready.”

Sherlock followed the direction, relaxing into the position and gasping when he felt John grab one of his arse cheeks, squeezing.

“This is also mine, hm? All of you.” John nipped at the sensitive skin, forcing a little cry past Sherlock's lips. “All mine.” He sucked on one of his fingertips before petting it over Sherlock's rim, circling and making him wet and a bit looser. “Fuck you're tight, I'm not even inside yet and I can feel it. Always so bloody tight.” He got the lube from the drawer of the bedside table, leaving it on the bed for easy reach. He kept using spit to start, circling and pushing until he'd breached the rim with just the pad of his finger, gently petting inside. Sherlock moaned quietly, shifting a little. He pinched one of his cheeks just to hear him yelp, chuckling. “That was for the cab.” He told him, admiring the little red mark his fingers had left.

“Now, tell me...” John murmured as he started slicking up two of his fingers. “Why exactly do you deserve to be fucked? Because I will, Sherlock, but only if you prove to me you deserve it. I'd hate to get you all stretched out for nothing.” He started working his pointer finger in and out, using his free hand to spread Sherlock's cheeks apart and watch his finger disappear into Sherlock. He liked the sight.

“I- I need it.” Sherlock said, clearly trying hard to think past the pleasure-pain of John's stretching. “B-because I need you to, and I want your cock and I'll be good, I'll be so good for you, I promise, please fuck me, please.”

John hummed, starting to work in his second finger. “Hm...” He pretended to think about that, drumming his fingers against Sherlock's hip. “I suppose that will do.” He said, smirking at Sherlock's relieved sigh. “Though this is more a favour to you than me, I really should ask for more than that. Since you  _need_ it. And you're sure you do?”

“Yes.” Sherlock answered quickly, rocking his hips back into John's hand before stopping abruptly, making an odd little noise that didn't sound like it was from pleasure. “Ah, John, it, um...”

John creased his forehead. “What's that?” He could tell Sherlock was nervous to say whatever it was to him.

“The... the position. My shoulder, it...” Sherlock trailed off, sounding embarrassed.

John rolled his eyes, finding it silly that Sherlock had been worried. “Onto your back, then.” He slowly withdrew his fingers, helping Sherlock turn over so he wouldn't have to put any additional weight on his shoulder. “What have I told you? You can't be afraid to tell me things like that.” He kissed Sherlock, not sure why he'd been so concerned.

“Didn't want you to stop...” He murmured, not meeting John's eyes.

John sighed, firmly grabbing Sherlock's chin and making their gazes meet. “That's ridiculous.” He smirked, regaining his controlling air quickly. “You've been such a good boy, you deserve a reward. I think my cock ought to do it.” He kissed him again, much more roughly and letting his fingers breech Sherlock once again as he tangled their tongues together. “I'm gonna get you nice and stretched...” He whispered, nipping at Sherlock's lower lip. “And then I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to think, and I'm going to watch your face when you come screaming my name, and nothing is going to stop me from that. Clear?”

He saw Sherlock's expression light up. “Clear...” He said dreamily, eyes nearly shutting before John crooked his fingers just right and made Sherlock scream, pressing firmly against his prostate. “ _Ah_ ! John, oh,  _oh_ fuck again, please, I- AH!” John pressed against the spot again, relishing Sherlock's pleasured shouts. He avoided the spot once again, not wanting Sherlock to come until John had been inside of him for a long while.

“That's a good boy... Think you're ready?” John asked, carefully working in a third finger. “Want my cock now? I know you do. You've been begging me for it all night, pleading like the little cockslut you are.” He nipped Sherlock's cheek, happy about the pleading look on his face. “But only for me, you only ever want me, because you're _mine_. Say it.”

“I-I'm yours.” Sherlock whimpered, rocking his hips much harder into John's hand, grinding against him shamelessly. “Always, I only ever want to be yours. Please.”

John kissed him, very pleased with his answer. “So good, baby. Perfect. You deserve your reward, such a good boy... Wrap your legs around me, I'm going to fuck you so hard...” He continued to kiss him as he slicked up his cock, using a hand to guide himself to Sherlock's hole. He stopped kissing him right before he pushed in, lifting his head to see his expression and hear his voice. He wasn't disappointed, his face scrunched at the slight burn but he moaned, low and rough, tightening his legs around John's hips. John slipped his hand under Sherlock's back, cradling him close to ease the strain on his shoulder as he pushed in deeper, slowly rocking in. John was of a considerable size, so it took a minute or so before he was fully inside Sherlock, pelvis to his bum, but it was so worth it. “So tight...” He murmured, smirking when Sherlock mewled at the praise. He started to slowly rock his hips, stretching him more before he started really moving, pulling all the way out before pushing back in, forcing a whine from Sherlock's lips. “You like that, babe?” He asked, repeating the action.

Sherlock nodded desperately, hands tight where they gripped at John's shoulders. “Yes, mfh, ah, I- I- Oh...” He trailed off when John sped up a little, making the other man chuckle.

“Look at you.” He said roughly, forcing himself to stay coherent in spite of the overwhelming tightness and heat Sherlock provided. “I've hardy done anything and you're a mess.” He nipped at his neck, hips thrusting at a much quicker pace. “Just like when I first fucked you, you came so hard that night... Just like you will tonight. I _will_ make you scream, Sherlock.” He sucked at his neck, making another hickey.

He thrust hard enough to rock Sherlock's body, shifting his position a little until the man screamed just as John wanted, pounding into that spot over and over until there were tears streaming down Sherlock's cheeks. “Fucking  _mine_ .” He growled, continuing to fuck hard into Sherlock, the pleasure starting to become too much. “Oh, fuck yes,  _fuck_ you're so good.” He felt closer than he wanted, but he couldn't stop, refused to stop making Sherlock lose his mind.

Sherlock was beyond comprehension, gasping and moaning and crying, knuckles white and legs in a death grip around John's waist as he was fucked  _hard_ , his hard cock bouncing against his stomach. He knew John liked to have him come untouched, to prove he could do that to him, but it was torturous. He needed to come, he couldn't handle it. 

“Come on.” John said roughly, nails digging into Sherlock's back. “Come, you know you will, so come for me. Come on me, right fucking now.” He bit Sherlock's ear, feeling his own orgasm approaching but not wanting to come before Sherlock. “Come. Scream for me.” John couldn't wait and reached between them, grasping Sherlock's cock and giving him a few rough strokes. “ _Now._ ”

Sherlock did scream, a harsh cry forced past his lips as he finally reached his peak, spine arching off the bed as he twitched and leaked into John's fist and over his stomach, shaking all over from the intensity of it. “Nggh! John, oh, oh, yes,  _yes_ , oh John!” He cried, eyes squeezed shut as he felt John shudder and come inside of him, rocking his hips to push every bit of come deep into Sherlock, wanting him to be full.

“Mm...” John hummed, finally slowing his hips and collapsing on Sherlock, still wary of his shoulder. “So good...” He said softly, stroking his hand over Sherlock's side for a few quiet moments, pleased to have Sherlock still tightly wound around him. “Are you okay, love?” He asked softly, lifting his head to check on Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded, uncrossing his legs but wrapping his arms around John's back, wanting to keep him where he was.

“Shoulder's fine?”

“Yeah.” Sherlock kissed him, sighing happily. “Still mad?”

“Mm, I wasn't really.” John told him, putting a hand on his cheek and stroking with his thumb. “Just worried. Though you really ought to be nicer to Lestrade.”

Sherlock wrinkled his nose. “Please don't mention Lestrade with your cock still inside of me, thanks.”

John laughed, kissing Sherlock again. “Fair enough.”

It was quiet again for a few moments before Sherlock nudged John's head with his own. “You had a box?”

“Oh!” John perked up, gently easing out of Sherlock and grabbing it from the side of the bed. “I'm not proposing, don't worry, but-”

“Worry?” Sherlock interrupted, creasing his brow.

“Well, yeah. Wouldn't want to scare you.” John teased, frowning when Sherlock didn't laugh.

“I wouldn't be scared if you proposed.” Sherlock told him.

John raised an eyebrow, surprised. “No? What would you do then?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Say yes, idiot.”

John blinked, then leaned in and kissed Sherlock passionately, tangling his fingers in his hair. “Maybe I'm proposing, then.” John said, grinning.

Sherlock laughed. “Excellent. Though that's not a ring box.”

“No, it's not.” John agreed, sitting up in Sherlock's lap and helping the other up as well to avoid strain on his shoulder. “Here.” He set the box in Sherlock's hand, waiting excitedly to have him open it.

Sherlock did, grinning at its contents. Two silver ID tags, both John's and still in the same condition they'd been in when John returned from Afghanistan though the chains were nicer than the ones that the army would've given out. “Mm, I like the jewelry but the actual proposal needs work.” He teased, slipping them over his head to wear.

John shoved him lightly before pulling them both back down to the mattress, pulling Sherlock into a tight embrace. “We're engaged, now you have to be nice to me.”

Sherlock scoffed. “Please. You wouldn't like me if I was nice.”

“Mm, true.” John kissed his lips, grinning like a loon. “I like 'em dangerous.”

“Then it's good you've got me.” Sherlock told him, snuggling in closer. “If it's not too much trouble I wouldn't mind a ring. You'd wear one too. I don't want anybody flirting with you.”

“I'd fear for their health.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “And if anybody flirted with me I'd fear for their life.”

John made to protest, but then... he  _really_ hated the idea of anybody flirting with Sherlock. He wouldn't kill them, of course, but... He wouldn't be happy. “As long as you don't flirt back.” He muttered.

Sherlock wrinkled his nose. “Disgusting. I'd only do that on a case.”

John was content with that answer, sighing and closing his eyes. “Sleep, love. It's been days and I'm beat.”

“Hm, all right.” Sherlock paused. “I love you.”

John grinned. “I love you too. Now sleep.”

They both slept peacefully, all tangled up in each other, and John awoke to see Sherlock still in bed, tags shining in the morning sunlight, looking beautiful and completely one hundred percent his.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know how the ending got so gross but it did  
> Fuckin nerds and your engagement whatever like I give a shit ugh
> 
> If you like this and other stories feel free to follow me at 221b-bound.tumblr.com 
> 
> I'm starving for followers on that blog okay it's all johnlock so just follow it also I post smutty RPs on it so there's that
> 
> Thank you and may Jesus never find out about any of this (unless he's into that in which case hey Jesus welcome to the party)


End file.
